


Subject of Desire

by isitandwonder



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Face-Fucking, Gay Club, M/M, Rough Sex, Spanking, Stripping, That Sequin Harness from Sex Dungeon Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 06:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17420936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isitandwonder/pseuds/isitandwonder
Summary: Written for this prompt:But I had this fantasy when I was listening to that song "closer_nine inch nails" where Timmy and Armie decided to meet in a gay club. When Armie is looking for him, he finds Timmy on a pole dancing stage in a stunning costume which he did not expect at all. So he just had to sit there with dozens of horney strangers who are staring at him like hungry animals, making dirty comments and praises at his body, receiving nothing but his naughty grins... Timmy is aware of the consequences of his behavior, he's deliberately giving Armie a good reason to teach him manners, that's how he likes it. But he's too naive to think that Armie dosen't know how to make him really sorry.





	Subject of Desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leili](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leili/gifts).



> **Now with NSFW art by the amazing chalamazed!**
> 
>  
> 
> Happy birthday, Leili! I hope you like what I made of it... it got intense. Be warned.
> 
> The title is me paraphrasing 'Bite' by Troye Sivan:  
>  _I can be the subject of your dreams_  
>  _Your sickening desire_

Armie can feel the slow, thudding beat in his chest, his stomach. He had to look at his phone twice, rereading Tim's message, to be sure that he really wanted to meet him... here.

Flying under the radar was one thing – but this was quite another.

Armie should have become suspicious when he'd seen the address – on the outskirts of LA in an industrial estate – but Tim was always full of surprises and had his ear on the pulse of the zeitgeist. What does Armie know where the jeunesse dorée went to party nowadays? Besides, as they wanted to stay as anonymous as possible, Armie had somehow expected something not too trendy and fashionable to meet Tim for a secret Tet-a-Tet after the Golden Globes.

But a strip club?

A gay strip club?

Well, that's a bit out of Armie's comfort zone.

Yet upon checking the directions a third time they still say the same – to meet Tim here at three in the morning.

So in he goes.

The bouncer just gives him a nod. He must look harmless enough with his cap and his chinos and a dark red t-shirt.

Inside, the space opens up behind a dimly lit foyer. The place is huge, with numerous poles surrounded by a bar and small tables – on which young men in different states of undress undulate their bodies in sometimes outright impossible movements.

The poles are numbered and Armie makes for stage No. 4 as instructed by Tim's message. It's currently empty. He sits down nonetheless and orders a beer, paying in cash – it seems safer that way. No use for Liz to see the name of this place on their credit card statement.

A few other men are hanging about as well. No one talks – the loud music doesn't allow for it anyway. The guys don't even make eyecontact, just stare onto the empty stage.

But Armie starts to look around. Where the hell is Tim? Is this a joke after all, Tim taking the piss? Or maybe his revenge for all those happy family posts from the Caymans?

But why tonight? Why after the Globes? They'd wanted to celebrate – regardless of Tim winning or loosing. So, why did he coax Armie into this godforsaken strip club – and then doesn't even show up?

Armie gets his answer soon enough. Suddenly, the pole in front of him is bathed in blueish light, a mid-tempo beat overlays the music coming form the other stages, and onto the platform struts... Tim, just wearing his black Louboutins, tight black boxer briefs and that fucking sequin harness he'd sported earlier that night to the delight of the whole internet. His curls are hidden beneath a black cap that's also overshadowing most of his face.

The song playing sounds vaguely familiar. A ticking begins, mixed with distorted electronic effects as he man's voice growls:

_You let me violate you_  
_You let me desecrate you_  
_You let me penetrate you_  
_You let me complicate you_

Armie feels goosebumps break out all over his arms.

And then Tim starts to move. He's holding onto the metal bar with his left hand while walking around it, his little butt wiggling as much as possible for such a skinny boy. His free arm reaches out, pointing at Armie who can feel himself blush. A few heads turn in his direction.

Now Tim grabs the pole with both his hands, spreads his legs and slowly lowers himself until he's almost squatting on the stage, the metal rod pressed against his crotch as his upper body leans back. Showing off his abs beneath his pale skin, almost purple in the low light. He stays bend backwards as a gets up again, his pelvis bucking and gyrating against the silver pole.

When he stands again he quickly turns, now pressing his back against the beam. He sinks down again, then bobs up and down a few times in an obvious motion while his sweaty back rubs against the gleaming metal

The sequins on his harness glitter mysterious in the blue light, a stark contrast to his milky skin.

_I want to fuck you like an animal_  
_I want to feel you from the inside_  
_I want to fuck you like an animal_  
_My whole existence is flawed_  
_You get me closer to god_

Okay, Tim has made his intentions quite clear. But the song isn't over yet. Supporting himself again with his left hand on the pole, grabbing it above his head, Tim's right pulls on a strap of his harness and the thing comes lose, falling off his shoulders. He bows down with straight legs crossed at his slim ankles, picks the embroidered piece of silk up and throws it in Armie's direction, who almost doesn't catches. His limbs don't seem to obey him anymore, probably because most of his blood is drained from his brain, rushing south between his legs.

Armie absentmindedly brings the harness to his face and inhales, smelling sharp sweat and the peach soap Tim loves to wash himself with. God, the scent takes him back...

Crema, hot days and even hotter nights, sweat-soaked sheets, Tim whimpering, panting, screaming his name until Armie had choked him to silence him...

Armie comes back to the here and now when the other men surrounding the small stage start to shove Dollar notes into Tim's pants, making sure to get a good look at what's straining the black cotton. When Tim finally ends up in front of Armie, he cups himself and gives his at least semi-hard cock a lazy squeeze. His waistband is lavishly decorated with what must sum up to around one hundred bucks.

Armie stares up at him, seeking his eyes. Tim takes off his cap and puts the Dollar bills into it, a mischievous smirk on his face framed by his dark glossy curls.

The spot illuminating him from behind gives his head a blue halo. He's Armie's fallen angel.

With a few quick rotations Tim worms out of his briefs, but the moment he pulls down their front he hides his assets behind his cap, grinning devilishly at Armie, bucking his hips a few times right in front of his face. Some money falls onto the stage but neither Tim nor Armie care.

When the music eventually fades out, Tim turns and bows, giving Armie a prime view of his firm ass, the muscles in his almost hairless thighs and buttocks flexing as he bends over to retrieve his underwear.

The guys around Armie whistle and clap and try to reach for Tim to get his attention – and maybe book a private session – until Armie gets up, hands Tim his harness and tells him unmistakably: “Get dressed and meet me outside in the parking lot in ten. And you better hurry, or I leave you here with these hyenas.”

He gulps down his beer, turns and leaves. Outside, he needs a moment to remember where he'd parked his car.

His hard cock makes walking quite uncomfortable.

Tim turns up five minutes later, dressed in black suit trousers and a black shirt. He stands in front of the club's doors, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking around, until Armie flashes the lights of his car. Tim jogs over and Armie opens the passenger door to let him climb in. Tim shoves his backpack onto the backbench and Armie puts the car in gear and drives off.

He only speaks when they hit the freeway.

“How did you pull this off?”

Tim chuckles. “The club belongs to a friend of a friend.”

“You got quite illustrious friends recently.” Armie can't suppress a bitter tone to his voice.

Tim sighs. “This is Hollywood. What am I supposed to do? Lock myself in my hotel room?”

Armie doesn't answer.

They stay quiet for a long time.

“Where are we going?” Tim asks eventually.

Armie shrugs. “No idea. Shall I get you back to your hotel?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

A moment later Armie pulls into the driveway of a motel. It looks cheap and a little sleazy but that somehow seems to be the right place for them.

“Stay in the car.” Armie says before pulling on a cap and unbuckling his seat belt to walk into reception.

He returns a few minutes later with a key card.

Their room is on the ground floor at the far end of the building. There's a huge bed, a table with two chairs, a minibar and a small bathroom.

“Go take a shower. I'm not having you after those other guys touched you like you were a whore.”

Tim swallows, blushing, lowering his head.

“Yes, Armie.”

He leaves the bathroom door slightly ajar as he gets naked and steps under the shower.

Armie listens to the water running, taking a beer from the minibar and cracking it open.

When Timmy emerges from the bathroom he just has a towel around his slim waist. Armie rips it off.

“Bend over the desk.” It's a command.

Tim gives him a look but does as he's told. Armie pulls his belt from its loops.

“You behaved like a tart tonight. Dancing in front of all those men? Letting them touch you, give you money. Would you have allowed them to fuck you as well?”

There's a moment silence before Tim breathes: “No, Armie. Just you.”

Armie has to close his eyes, pulling the belt tight in his fist.

“Grab the table. Count. That's the only sound I wanna hear from you.”

“One... two... three... four...five...” Tim's breathless voice fills the room. Armie listens to him, listens to the leather hissing in the silent room before hitting Tim's firm buttocks, watching them redden.

He pauses after the fifth blow, touching the hot skin, squeezing Tim's ass cheeks until he whimpers.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes, Armie.”

“Good.”

He gives him another five, just for good measure. At the end of it, Tim's ass is bright red and he's panting, clutching the desk so hard the knuckles on his hands have turned white..

“On your knees. Open your mouth.”

Tim hurries to comply, grimacing as he moves. 

Armie loves to see Tim like this, broken and obedient. It makes him even harder he has been for hours. Because Tim has acted like a slutty tease. So he'll get what he asked for.

Armie stares down at Tim's upturned face, streaked with tears, before he rips open his fly, pulls down his trousers and pants and shoves his hard cock into Tim's waiting mouth.

Tim splutters.

Tim gags.

Tim chokes.

Armie doesn't stop. He fucks Tim's face ruthlessly until he's drooling, spit running down his chin, his lips stretching around Armie's enormous girth as he tries to swallow as best he can.

It looks painful. More tears are streaming down his face, mixing with the saliva dripping on his naked chest. Quickly, he looks thoroughly wrecked..

Armie keeps going until he's close. But when he feels his orgasm building he withdraws abruptly.

Tim coughs, taking a deep breath. His lips are swollen; the corners of his mouth look torn.

“Get on the bed. On your hands and knees.”

Tim does as he's told, a little clumsy, maybe because of the oxygen deprivation. Maybe because he's as aroused as Armie. His face is flushed, hard cock straining against his concave belly, leaking a thick bead of precome. 

On the bed he's canting his hips upwards, spreading his legs as Armie has taught him. Like a bitch in heat.

Armie pulls his shirt off and his trousers all the way down before getting behind Tm. He moans when Armie's cock nudges his entrance, rubbing up and down his cleft.

“You want it?”

“I need it. I need you.”

“Then beg for it, you cunt.”

“Please... please, Armie,” Tim is gasping, sobbing, “please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me. Just do it. Destroy me with your fat cock. Ravish me.”

He knows what Armie loves to hear.

"You think you've earned the privilege to enjoy lube?"

"No." Tim mouths, his head hanging low between his arms, his curls now long enough to brush the sheets. The muscles in his back quiver as he seems to prepare himself for the pain to come.

Armie stares at the welts covering his tiny ass.

"What's your safeword?"

It takes Tim a moment to answer: "Mafalda."

"You wanna use it?"

"No." Louder this time. "I want this. I want you to punish me for my... insolence."

There might even be a mischievous smirk to Tim's voice. After all, he started this, very well knowing how Armie would react. It's a game they both love.

Armie grips the base of his cock with one hand, Tim's hip with the other, gathers saliva in his mouth and aims for Tim's tight, rosy pucker. The ring of muscle twitches when the spit hits it and Armie hurries to push in before the sparse slick drips down Tim's crease. 

Tim tenses, his back going ramrod straight while his breath catches in his throat, escaping him in a thin whimper when Armie moves again.

“Relax.”

Armie is kind enough to give Tim a moment before starting to fuck him in earnest, staring down where his enormous cock seems to be splittig Tim in half. 

When he can feel Tim's body give in, accepting the intrusion, he starts to buck his hips, hard and fast. Apart from the occasional hiss Tim stays quiet, just as Armie likes it at this stage. The only sound in the room is the wet slap of sweaty skin against skin, interspersed by Armie's grunts.

When he's getting close again, he stops, pulls out.

“I have an idea.”

Tim mewls at the loss of his cock.

But Armie just puts on his boxer briefs and one of the motels too small robes and leaves the room, not closing the door behind himself as he runs over to his car to retrieve Tim's backpack, holding the... whatever that piece of fabric embroidered with sequins is actually called.

When he's back in the room he throws the garment at Tim.

“Put it on.”

It takes some fumbling and Armie lending a helping hand for Tim to get into the harness.

The blue-black sequins twinkling in the low lights from the bedside lamp are a stark contrast to Tim's almost translucent skin.

Armie kisses him, deeply, running his hands all over the enticing item of clothing before pushing Tim back down onto the mattress, grabbing the harness for good leverage to fuck him to completion.

When he slides in again he's met with no resistance. Tim's body opens up for him, sighing with pleasure. This feels fucking perfect.

"You wanna come?" Armie thrusts deep, accentuating the question.

Tim nods, eyes wide.

"You think you deserve to come?" Another hard thrust.

Tim shakes his head, beyond speech. 

Armie loves him like this.

"You'll come from my cock alone. If you touch yourself, you'll spend the rest of the night standing naked in the corner, holding your backpack above your head. Now grab the headboard."

Tim nods again, biting his still puffy lower lip. He knows exactly what this does to Armie. 

As Tim slowly reaches for the headboard, his body shudders beneath Armie and he fears Tim might come right now. For a second he thinks that Tim might deliberately fuck this up just to suffer another harsh penalty. Because Armie knows how much Tim likes to play, how it turns him on to be punished, humiliated and used until he's reduced to a moaning, sobbing mess.

It makes Armie lose control completely.

He fucks Tim hard, his delicate body shaking with the force of Armie's more and more erratic movements, devouring him, just chasing his own completion.

It goes surprisingly quick.

Tim makes a noise deep in his throat and then his lovely pink cock spits ribbons of spunk all over his belly, chest and harness, adding white shining beads to the black sequins.

Armie stares down at him, his body shaking with wave after wave of pleasure, mouth open, eyes closed.

"Look at me." He growls. Tim's eyes snap open and Armie is met with a hazy, unfocused amber melting in post-orgasmic bliss.

"Armie, please... mark me as yours." Tim whispers, and that's all Armie needs to hear to make his balls draw up tight.

In the last moment, however, Armie pulls out, shooting his load all over Tim's chest and that sinful piece of clothing. He watches the thick pearly stripes soak into the silk beneath the sequins while they both get their breath back.

“Virgil will be furious.” Timmy smirks.

“I'll take it to the dry-cleaners. It'll look as good as new.” Armie stares a moment longer at Tim's designer fetish wear until he helps him get out of it again, kissing every inch of revealed skin. It's slightly red due to the sequins scratching Tim's sensitive chest, shoulders and back.

Afterwards, he holds Tim close. They're both quiet.

“Did you like it, me dancing for you?” Tim asks eventually.

“Very much. It was a surprise though.” Armie kisses his nape, his curls.

Tim sighs, snuggling closer.

“You okay?” Armie asks.

“Me okay.”

Armie smiles against his sweat-damp skin before pulling the sheet up to cover them both.

The next morning, they shower together. After checking out, they get breakfast at 'Eggslut'. Tim giggles when they enter the restaurant. Armie roles his eyes but can't suppress a grin either.

Tim tenses a little when he sits down, despite Armie rubbing lotion into his welts this morning. He took his time to do so, appreciating his work. Tim will feel it for quite some days.

Good. It'll remind him who he belongs to.

“So...” Armie says after taking a bite of his bacon, egg and cheese sandwich.

Tim just raises his eyebrows.

“When are you leaving for Europe?

“I'm going over in a week. Promo first, then France, then Hungary.”

“So it might be a while till I can see you again?”

Tim takes a sip of his coffee.

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder.” He smiles, but there's an edge to it.

Armie nods. “So they say. But...”

“You have 'Rebecca', filming in London?”

Armie nods.

Tim grins, pressing his leg between Armie's under the table. “We'll figure something out.”

They always do.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed that!


End file.
